Tales of Redwall
by Sebias of Redwall
Summary: A series of drabbles and one-shots that take place before, during, or after the events in The Grey Warlord. Including deleted or extended scenes.
1. Urthblaze

**Author Note:**

**This story (*Points at summary*) is a collection of one-shots and like. Chances are, most of the individual updates won't link together or anything. **

**This one-shot takes place a season or so before my fanfic **_**The Grey Warlord**_**. This document was collecting dust, so I decided it was time to publish it. **

**Enjoy! Please leave a review and let me know what you thought. **

**Happy reading to you! **

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**NORTHLANDS**

The harsh wind blew snow down on a young beast as he tramped his way through the knee deep snow blanketing the ground around him. The creature was a young badger, his fur almost looking completely white from the many snowflakes that had landed on him. He was known to all as Urthblaze, son of the late Lenard Darkstripe and his wife, Hilda.

Urthblaze was sixteen seasons old. He wore a long, heavy, green coat, and his arms were full of chopped up pieces of firewood.

The badger squinted as he peered through the wind until he could make out the dim shape of his and his grandfather's hut.

_Finally! I should've listened to Hextor when he said to get this wood gathering business done while it was still warm, _the badger thought, hugging the wood in his muscular arms closer to his chest as he ducked his head into the wind. _Who knows how long this winter will last?_

Winters in the Northlands were usually colder than most places – and lasted far longer. However, Urthblaze had heard that in some parts of the land known as 'The Land of Snow and Ice', it was practically always winter. It was slightly –not much– but slightly more comforting knowing that no matter where you are, things could be worse.

Urthblaze looked up once again into the blinding freezing-cold wind and saw that he had finally made it back to the hut. Opening the door, while making sure he didn't drop any of the firewood, he entered and closed the door behind him.

"I'm back!" he announced loudly.

"Eh, what was that?"

Urthblaze smiled as he saw his grandfather. Old Hextor had been quite the mighty fighter back in his youth, but now, the once tall and massive warrior had been reduced to an almost-deaf, grey-furred, old beast.

Hextor was busy taking out a loaf of warm bread from the oven when he finally cocked his head sideways and looked at Urthblaze with amused eyes. "Well? Don't just stand there like a frozen statue, put the wood down by the fireplace and help me get supper ready."

Urthblaze grunted as he walked over and happily relieved his weary arms of their load. Then after stamping his feet a bit to shake of the snow, he went to one of their cupboards and pulled out two plates and set the table. Pulling up a chair, he sat down and waited.

Hextor set a tray on the table with the loaf of bread, along with a big pot of steaming hot vegetable soup. The contents inside the soup were rather old since they had been stored all winter long, yet Hextor was a skilled enough cook that he made sure that they couldn't taste anything unusual. After they both had bowed their heads and said a simple grace, Urthblaze dug into his food with enthusiasm.

"I'll definitely be glad when this winter is over," Urthblaze said as he ate a spoonful of soup. "How much longer do you think it'll last?"

Hextor slowly chewed on his piece of soft bread. "Hmm… It's hard to tell. If I had to guess, I'd say a few more weeks. One can never be sure with this northern weather…"

They continued eating on in a comfortable silence. The flames in the fireplace crackling, and the only other sounds that could be heard was the noise of the wind blowing.

Urthblaze smacked his lips as he reached for his fourth helping. "Do you think we might be able to go to the village in a few days if the weather clears up a bit?"

Hextor leaned back on his chair and gave a loud burp. "Excuse me. Now, what was it? Oh yes. Well… I guess we could. We're running a bit low on flour, and we could always use more food supplies." The old badger grinned as he nodded to Urthblaze's stomach. "After all, you eat more than a whole army of hares at a summer feast."

"I do not! And if I did, it's just because I'm a growing beast! Everybeast knows that young creatures must eat a lot." He winked as he added, "Especially when the cooking tastes so good."

Hextor threw a bread crust at him. "Uh-huh, I'm sure."

The young badger caught the piece of bread with his paw and popped it into his mouth. Grinning from ear to ear, he said, "Of course, we obviously both know that I'm the better cook. I just let you do most of it because I want you to keep your old skills sharp."

"Ha. _You _a better cook than _me_? That'll be the day. And what are you insinuating by 'old skills'? Are you calling me old?"

Urthblaze glanced upward innocently. "Whatever gave you that impression, grandpa?"

"Hmm, if I was a few seasons younger I hold y' over my knee and spank you." Hextor rose from his seat and pretended to swipe at the grinning Urthblaze. "Hmph. Youngsters these days, I'll tell you…"

"But I thought that you said _you _were a youngster too, grandpa?" Urthblaze pointed out, his grin growing wider. "Isn't that kinda contradictory?"

Hextor grunted and rolled his eyes. He glanced down at the messy dinner table. "Now, wipe that smile off of your face and do something useful for a change, eh? You want to do the dishes while I dry them?"

After he quickly spooned down the rest of the soup, Urthblaze scooted his chair back. "Sure. I'll wash." He couldn't resist but add, "We wouldn't want your paws to get more wrinkled than they already are, now do we?"

Urthblaze only just managed to duck the drying towel as it flew over to where his head had been.

"Ha," Urthblaze grinned, "You missed m– oof!"

As he had looked back up, a second cloth hit him full in the face.

"Serves you right," Hextor chuckled. "Now, let's get these dishes done."

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The blizzard outside of the hut had started to die down somewhat by the time the two beasts were finished doing the dishes. Both of the badgers were sitting by the roaring fire; Hextor smoking his pipe, and Urthblaze carving a shape out of a chunk of wood.

Hextor smiled to himself. His grandson was always eager to learn something new. Why, it was only a month ago when he had shown the young lad how to whittle. Ever since then, he had watched as the young badger poured his spare time into his new-found hobby.

_The lad is a fast learner. _Hextor thought. _He has so much potential… _

There was quite a considerable amount of smoke circling around the old grandfather's head when Hextor decided to break the silence.

"Urthblaze, how would you feel about going to a school for a while?"

The young badger immediately flicked his gaze up, his jaw dropped open slightly. "Er…uh, I'm not sure that's a good idea, Grandfather?" When Hextor pulled his pipe out from his mouth and looked at him, Urthblaze felt the need to explain further. "Well, I mean, it's not like I wouldn't dislike going to school, it's just that…" His voice trailed off.

"Just what?"

"Well, do you remember that last time we were in the village?"

"You mean when we went to trade for wheat?"

Urthblaze nodded. "Well… I don't think some of the kids like me. They were laughing at me… I think it was because I'm so big and clumsy."

"Nonsense, m'boy, sheer nonsense. You're not clumsy! Just look at your carvings for example! You couldn't be clumsy and carve like that. I've met many carpenters who couldn't do half as well as you can! You're quick to learn, Urthblaze." Hextor once again puffed a whiff of smoke from the sides of his mouth. "I'm sure that they wouldn't make fun of you if they got to know you. Besides, I think going to a school and making friends your age would be good for you – healthy even! It can't be good for a young'un like yourself to be cooped up with an old coot like me. Besides, you always like to read books and all of that literary stuff."

Urthblaze could see that his grandfather's mind was made up. Once that happened, he knew that nothing could change the old badger from going through with his idea.

"Okay, Grandpa, if you say so."

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The weeks following saw a change in the weather. The harsh, freezing-cold winds blowing down from the north ceased as spring slowly rolled in.

Hextor managed to put Urthblaze in the local village's school. Every other morning, after he had finished his chores, Urthblaze would take the hour and a half walk to school.

That day basically seemed to start like any other day. The class had already finished practicing their letters and were moving on to history lessons. The teacher, a stern female mouse called Miss Hickory by her students, thought that history and art was just as important as reading and counting. Even though many of the villager parents didn't think they were necessary, she insisted it was.

"Does anybeast know who the founder of our village was?" Miss Hickory asked her students.

A few of the older beasts raised their paws and waved them excitedly. This was a question that they could handle.

"Pick me, Miss Hickory!"

"I know what it is! Pick me!"

"I like the enthusiasm, children, but…" Miss Hickory indicated the other students – those who looked like they wanted to hide underneath their benches, and had no clue whatsoever of the answer – and said, "I'd like one of the other children to answer it for a change."

There was a blank silence, broken only by a random cough.

"Hmm…" The mouse teacher's gaze swept across the room. She pointed at a small mouse roughly seven seasons of age. "Mathew, what do you think?"

"I…uh, maybe… er…" Mathew wringed his paws and shot imploring looks at his classmates. Finally, his expression brightened up. "Old Luke Cliffpaw?"

"Correct, but to you, his name is _Sir _Luke Cliffpaw. He might be eighty seasons old, but he could still crack you one on the tail if he put his mind to it."

There were a few giggles across the room, and Hickory held up her paws for silence. "Now, let's move on to something about the lands to the south. Urthblaze, can you tell me who discovered Redwall Abbey?"

All of the creatures turned to look at the badger. He looked a comical sight, sticking out like a sore thumb-claw due to his massive size. He had been doodling a drawing when he heard his name mentioned.

"Oh, I'm sorry. What was that?" he asked, almost scooting two of his classmates off of the bench as he stood up.

Miss Hickory rolled her gaze skyward and let out a sigh. "Who discovered Redwall Abbey?"

"Um…I don't know." He felt his face beginning to turn red.

Urthblaze mentally kicked himself. Why would _he _know about that place? He'd never been there! And why would he need to know who had built in in the first place? It wasn't like it the abbey would pick itself up and run away on its own if he didn't?

"I see." Mrs. Hickory turned back towards the black board. "You can take your seat. The creature who founded the abbey in the south was a brave mouse called Martin the Warrior. He was…"

Her voice seemed to fade away as Urthblaze began to daydream.

_He pictured himself in front of the legendary mountain of Salamandastron. Now _that _was a place he knew about, backwards and forwards. Ever since his mother had told him stories about the fearsome Badger Lords, and their courageous regiments of Long Patrol warriors, he had instantly began to dream about wandering there one day and becoming one of them._

_The mountain was so huge that it blotted out the sky in his imagination. He ran forward, leading his fearsome warriors to defeat a huge army of vermin corsairs. The enemy panicked and fled when they saw him coming, and his victorious hares began to chant his name._

_Urthblaze! _

_Urthblaze!_

_Urth_ – "Urthblaze! Are you paying attention?"

Miss Hickory's voice brought the badger's thoughts crashing back to reality. "Er… Yes, marm, I'm paying attention."

The teacher's eyes narrowed slightly for a brief moment then shook her head slowly and gave a sigh. "Please remain here after school is over, Urthblaze. I'd like to have a word with you."

The young creature gulped. _This isn't going to be good…_

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As it turned out, it hadn't gone as bad as Urthblaze had expected. The teacher had just gone on and on about "The importance of education" and "This was for his own good" and so on.

_But I know all of this! _Urthblaze wanted to say. _I like to learn, just…not about boring stuff that I'll never need to know. _

After it was all over, the teacher smiled and said that he was allowed to leave. Grabbing his things, he hastily threw them in his haversack and squeezed out through the door.

He was walking down on one of the side alleyways when he suddenly heard a call.

"Hey, boulder-paws!"

He winced and slowly turned around to see a pair of otters walking up behind him. Once he caught sight of who they were, he frowned. They were the otter brothers, Chugger and Alf. Both of them liked to pick on the other village children, and for some reason, they had become fascinated with making life miserable for Urthblaze.

"Where ya going?" Chugger asked, a sneer spreading on his face as he added, "Or are ye too busy daydreamin' an' can't remember?"

Urthblaze was already in a bad mood, the two otters weren't helping matters. "Guys, knock it off," he said in a low, threatening tone. Most beasts would've been put out at his reply, but not Chugger and Alf – Whose brains combined didn't seem to measure up to a pea. Instead, they both began to roar out with laughter.

"Did ye 'ear that, mate? He's says t' knock it off. Well what are ye going t' do if we don't, ye big lug? Sit on us?"

Urthblaze tried to ignore them and plowed on. Seeing that their victim wasn't giving the correct reaction, they ran and darted in front of him, effectively blocking his path.

Alf scooped up a pawful of mud and threw it at the badger. It splattered all over the front of his shirt.

"Hold on there," the otter said, "we're not done with ye yet!"

_That does it! _Urthblaze looked down at his shirt then back up to Alf and Chugger. "Listen, you two, calling me names is one thing, but this is taking it too far. My Grandpa made this shirt for me. And if you don't step aside I'm going to bash your heads together!"

Chugger snickered mockingly. "By th' way, that reminds me. Why do ye an' that old bag of bones that ye call a grandfather even bother coming into town? We both know – ack!"

Chugger suddenly felt something grip him by his shirt color and lifting his footpaws off the ground, slammed him against a hut wall. He gave a bark of fear as he saw that Urthblaze's eyes had turned a shade of pink.

"Don't you ever talk that way about my Grandfather again!" He growled.

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By the time Urthblaze was through with them, both otters looked quite the sight. Both had black eyes, missing fangs, and bruises to last them a few weeks at the least.

"They took it too far," Urthblaze would reply simply whenever Hextor asked him about the incident.

Once Hextor had learned the full story, however, he agreed that it had served the two bullies right.

"Never let anger control your actions," Hextor had said, "Promise me, Grandson. Promise me that you won't let the Bloodwrath that flows through your veins kill you like it's killed so many of our kin."

"I promise," Urthblaze replied.


	2. Bloodfur: Part 1

The sun shone down on the western sea. White, fluffy clouds floated across the perfectly blue sky like massive moving mountains. The sea rippled as blue-green waves slowly went up and down.

A corsair ship –the word _Deathwake_ painted on the side of its hull– slowly, almost lazily, floated its way toward the western setting sun.

The _Deathwake_ was a large ship with three decks. Its tall masts loomed up high into the sky.

A seagull gracefully plopped down on the corsair ship's railing. It puffed out its chest as it prepared to grace the crew aboard with the melodious (Though some would say squawky and annoying) sound of its voice when–

_Pow!_

A small turnip went slamming into the bird, causing a flurry of feathers to explode from the impact. The seagull gave an angry squawk and dove off the side of the ship, stretching out its wings and flying off to find a place where it would more peaceful.

The bird's dignified flight swiftly turned into a panicked retreat as another turnip suddenly whipped out from the _Deathwake_ and skimmed his tail-feathers.

"Craw!" The seagull flapped his wings as hard and as fast as they could go until he finally became nothing more than a mere speck on the horizon.

"Tha' was a great shot there, Blue-Eyes," a short, rather scrawny rat exclaimed to his companion, a tall weasel with deep blue eyes. There was a small pile of turnips heaped together in between the two young vermin, and both held slings in their claws.

The rat was a skinny beast. He had fur that was scruffy and spiked up enough to put a hedgehog to shame. His tattered clothes showed signs of wear and tear and his belt looked like it had been found in the ship's trash pile (Which, as it turns out, was where the rat had found it). He was called Rico Weakgut by the older sailors because he had a weak gut when it came to sea-sickness.

The weasel beside him seemed a bit better off, but not by much. His clothes were slightly less raggedy and his fur was nicely combed, and he always had a smile plastered on his face. Rico could've sworn that Blue-Eyes had been born into the world with full-grown combed fur, and a smirk on his lips.

"Why thank you, Rico. I guess that was a pretty good shot, if I do say so myself," Blue-Eyes replied. "The same could be said for yours though. A little bit more to the left and you would've hit him square in his hindquarters."

"Do birds even 'ave 'indquarters?" Rico scratched his head thoughtfully. "Or do they just have those feathered tails?"

"I don't know, and quite frankly, I don't really care." Blue-Eyes grinned and slapped Rico playfully on the shoulder. "Say! I just had a brilliant idea! What if we see if we can hit the lookout from down here?"

"What a great idea!"

The rat and the weasel both grabbed their slings and scooped up their pile of turnips, which they had raided from the ship's kitchen.

"Wait," Rico said, stopping dead in his tracks, "I think ol' thin Firepelt is on look-out duty today."

"So?"

"What do yew mean 'so'? Ol' Firepelt would chuck us over th' side if we tried t' 'hit him with our slings."

"Hmm…" Blue-Eyes scratched his chin thoughtfully. "I guess you have a point there. Well then what in fate's name can we use as target practice?"

"We could use th' slaves, though it's no fun iffen they can't run or try t' dodge..."

"…True."

The two young vermin stood on the center of the deck as they waited for inspiration to hit them.

"What 'ave we 'ere?" a voice boomed out from behind Blue-Eyes and Rico. A pair of rough claws grabbed them both by their ears. The two young creatures whimpered in pain and Rico let out a curse that would've made any halfway decent mother wash his mouth out with soap.

They turned around slowly to see the fearsome Captain Bloodfur, the terror of the western sea. The rat had a healthy-sized stomach. A stoat corsair had once made the accurate (Yet unwise) statement that Bloodfur was actually fat … That stoat lived to regret his words. Briefly. Then Bloodfur had him tied to a stone block and thrown into the sea.

Bloodfur had veins on his neck that bulged out like rope cords. His whiskers trailed all of the way down to his belly button and were tied in a clump of tangled knots. His large nose looked like a squashed tomato.

"Well, well, well," Bloodfur said in a voice that sounded similar to a roll of thunder, "What were th' two o' ye doing with these 'ere fancy slings?"

"N-n-nothin', Capt'n," Rico stammered out. "We just borrowed 'em t' practice. We were gonna put 'em right back, honest!"

"Y' know, some captains would 'ave yer heads fer stealin' weapons from a ship's armory. Some would even 'ave ye skinned alive." The fat rat threw back his head in a thunderous laugh.

Captain Bloodfur suddenly stopped laughing. The searat leaned forward until his long whiskers practically touched the deck. "Don't ever, ever touch these again, do y' hear?"

They bobbed their heads profusely.

"Sure thing, Capt'n!"

"We will absolutely try to do as you request, my dear mumpsimus captain sir," Blue-Eyes said with a sweeping bow.

Bloodfur squinted down at Blue-Eyes, scratching his head. "What's up with the fancy lingo, eh?" The vermin captain waved a paw dismissively. "Alrighty then, be off with ye. Go 'elp th' cook or somethin'."

As they scrambled off, Rico whispered to Blue-Eyes, "What's a mumpsi...a mupm...a whatever you said?"

The weasel snickered. "Nothing good."

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The one and only cook aboard the Deathwake was an odd beast. Some said that she was part mole because she always squinted in the daylight, and talked in a surprisingly deep voice for a female. She was called Wartnose, and she lived up to the name. The hideous growth on her snout was enough to make any toad jealous.

She had been stirring a boiling pot of … something (she wasn't even quite sure what it was), when she heard a quiet knock on the kitchen cabin door.

"Watch'ya want?" she scowled, grabbing a small frying pan as she stomped over to the door. "If it's somebeast with another complaint about my cookin', I'm gonna…" Twisting the doorknob, she flung the door open wide and saw …

Nothing?

Sniffing the air, Wartnose glanced about at the milling searats who were either carrying supplies to the top decks, or were just randomly sitting and watching, bored out of their guts.

"Who knocked on th' door?" Wartnose asked, brandishing her pan. "Speak up!"

There was a moment of silence as everybeast stopped what they were doing and stared back at the irritated cook. Nobeast messed with Wartnose. Some say she poisoned anybeast that she didn't like. It was quite easy to believe since her food did taste like it had a healthy dash of poison.

Wartnose spat on the ground and was about to go back to cooking when a head suddenly popped up from behind one of the barrels of water.

"I-I-I did." Rico stammered.

Wartnose rolled her eyes. "Well? I'm assuming y' didn't knock fer the pleasure of it. What'cha want?"

Rico replied, "Capt'n sent us."

"'Us?'" Wartnose raised an eyebrow.

Blue-Eyes' head popped up from behind the barrel beside Rico's. The weasel gave her a polite smile. "Hello. Captain said to see if you were in need of our services for anything."

Wartnose scoffed. Gazing back to where her pot was still cooking on the stove, she sighed and glanced upwards. "Fine," she said, gesturing with her pan. "Come on."

The corsairs around them resumed their work as the two luckless vermin followed the head cook into the kitchens.

"Well, I've got some taters that you kin peel." Wartnose said once the door was shut. "An' after that, there are a lot of dishes t' be scrubbed, bowls 'n' plates that need sorting, food t' be cooked, 'n' cabbages to be chopped." She grinned nastily. "An' maybe some nice, sliced ears an' paws fer dessert tonight. It depends on 'ow fast y' two work."

The weasel looked at her with his blue eyes. "Of course, madam, we'll get it done precisely like you say."

"Just make sure you don't peel too much of the skin off them taters like y' did last time," Wartnose said as she handed them both a pair of knives. "Now get t' work."

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"Don't you wish there was more to life than this? How about you, Ric?"

The two young vermin had been slicing, washing, mopping, and peeling until they were sure that their paws would fall off. Rico gave a grunt in reply to Blue-Eyes' statement as he reached out to grab another potato.

"What do you mean by that?"

Blue-Eyes shrugged. "I'm afraid that I just wasn't built for the life of a corsair. Heck, I don't even have the accent!"

"Well, I mean, that's our lot in life I guess. Jus' as long as we obey orders 'n' do our jobs, we'll be fine."

Blue-Eyes shook his head. "Not for me. I want to get off of this leaky tub."

Rico sighed.

Blue-Eyes hadn't been born and raised on the Deathwake like Rico had. The blue-eyed weasel had been picked up on a raid five seasons ago, along with a few other vermin. Blue-Eyes apparently had no kin when they had found him.

There had been a little bit of debate about if the younger ones were to be assigned as slaves or as young corsairs-to-be. The captain had finally laughed and said that it didn't matter because everybeast on his ship had to jump just as high when he snapped out an order, be they slave or a deckhand. When Rico and Blue-Eyes had first met, Rico had his doubts about the fine talking young weasel, but given time, the two became close friends in what can be called the most bonding relationship of all. Partners in crime.

There had been a few times in the past that Blue-Eyes had told Rico that he always had a dream to desert the ship, and live happily on an island somewhere. Maybe even one day becoming a chief among the island's natives. Rico had laughed and shrugged it off the few first times, but as they got older, Blue-Eyes grew more persistent.

"How about it, Ricky?" Blue-Eyes asked, throwing yet another peeled potato on the ever-growing pile. "What if, on some nice, quiet, dark night in the near future, we swipe some provisions and take one of the lifeboats. Nobeast will miss us, though I'm sure they might get a tad upset about the boat, but if we have the timing right, we could make for an island and live there, happy as two stoats with a barrel of seaweed grog."

_Do you remember what they do to deserters?_ Rico wanted to ask, but he knew from past conversations that once Blue-Eyes started going on and on about leaving, no amount of reasoning would get through to him.

"Yeah, who knows," Rico said finally, "Maybe one day. If everythin' is perfect, 'n' we 'ave everythin' we need, we migh' just try it." Before Blue-Eyes could open his mouth, Rico continued, "But until then, let's not talk 'bout it, aye?"

"Alright, mate, whatever you say."

As they both turned to continue their chores, Rico could still see a certain glimmer in the weasel's ice blue eye. The weasel's lips barely moved as he whispered, echoing Rico's words, "Until one day."


	3. Bloodfur: Part 2

_**FOUR SEASONS LATER:**_

As time went by, Rico grew into a fearless fighter. Living in the pirate world makes a beast tough, and the nineteen-season-old rat had a natural skill at paw-to-paw combat. He had been promoted to First Mate when he saved Captain Bloodfur's life in a raid on a woodlander ship.

Blue-Eyes also fared well, although perhaps not quite as much as Rico. The weasel had grown tall and lean. Although he wasn't as well known for his fighting prowess as Rico, the weasel proved to be a fearsome fighter with his long, razor-sharp rapier.

The _Deathwake_ had set a course south as the summer season slowly turned to fall. It had been a good season for plundering and they were looking forward to resting on a warm, preferably peaceful, island.

There was a sudden shout from the crow nest, and almost the entire crew came stampeding to the deck when they heard the call: "ship sighted dead ahead!"

Rico clambered through the crowd of searats and corsairs until he could finally get a good view of the vessel. It appeared to be some kind of merchant ship. With only one square mast, and by the slow way it was moving, the rat could tell that it wouldn't be long before The _Deathwake _caught up to her.

"Watch'ya think, Blue-Eyes?" Rico asked, flashing his friend a confident grin, "Does tha' look like easy pickings t' ye?"

"Sure does," the tall weasel grinned, brushing the tip of his rapier's blade with his paw, "Looks like it'll be easier than catching fish in a barrel."

"Hmm…" Rico said, tightening his grip on his axe's handle. He had dyed his weapon a crimson red. "Let's just 'ope they're not as slippery as fish. I wonder what our great capt'n's strategy is fer this one."

Blue-Eyes shrugged. "I don't know. I guess we'll find out."

The weasel's words would soon prove correct as orders were snapped out for the crew to grab their weapons and to prepare the grappling hooks. It was going to be yet another frontal assault; Bloodfur's favorite kind.

They strapped on every bit of canvas, and waited as the distance between the two vessels slowly closed.

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There was the sound of a creature screaming out a battle-cry, and Rico spun around and smashed his red, double-bladed axe into a mouse's head. The world around him consisted of bloody, screaming beasts, desperately trying to kill or not be killed.

Blue-Eyes' rapier thrusted and jabbed like a blur, dropping a large otter to the deck, his paws holding his stomach where the weasel's blade had ripped his guts to shreds.

The merchant ship hadn't been quite as easy a prey as they had first thought. When the _Deathwake_ had finally outpaced it and drew up alongside it the searats were finally able to take a glance at their victim's crew. They were woodlanders. At first it was mostly mice, with a scattering of otters armed with longbows. However, as the corsairs tied the ships together using the grappling hooks, a large, well-armed company of massive sea otters had charged up from the bottom deck. If both sides had the same number of beasts, the searats would've had their tails cut off and handed to them. However, experience and numbers rapidly turned the tide in favor of the freebooters.

Rico and Blue-Eyes had been among the first wave of attackers, and now they both fought back to back as they were surrounded by the desperate woodlanders.

"Watch yer back, Blue-Eyes!" Rico called out, kicking a bleeding mouse in the face as the woodlander tried to crawl back to his footpaws.

Blue-Eyes was slightly too slow, and he spat out a curse (Yet, somehow in his typically dignified way) as a spear tip cut his shoulder. Grabbing the spear with one paw, he used the other to thrust his sword straight through the woodlander's throat.

The woodlanders around them suddenly started to drop like flies as Captain Bloodfur sent a company of archers up the _Deathwake_'s masts. Arrow after arrow fell on the otters and the mice, severely thinning their ranks.

"Come on, boys!" Captain Bloodfur roared out as he led a fresh wave of attackers onto the woodlander vessel, "Show 'em why we are th' most feared crew on the western seas!"

Rico and Blue-Eyes managed to steal a quick breather as their fellow searats crashed down on the last groups of fighting otters and mice.

"Well, tha' probably felt good," Rico grinned, pointing a claw at Blue-Eyes' shoulder.

The weasel spat on the deck, grinning, "It felt great," he said sarcastically. Raising his rapier, he pretended to take a step forward, "Here, I can give you one just like it if you want."

"No, no, I'm good," Rico replied. The rat wearily sat down on the deck and dropped his heavy blood-stained axe. He and Blue-Eyes watched as the last of their foes were chased down into the bottom decks where most of them surrendered, knowing that there was no escape.

Blue-Eyes ripped a piece of cloth off the shirt of a dead mouse to clean his blade. "We'll probably have a good party tonight."

Rico chuckled, "Either that, or they'll all be busy snorin'."

Blue-Eyes' voice dropped a few notches as the weasel sat down beside his friend. "You know, I hear that the island we're heading to is going to be a pretty nice layout. There is even a small castle and a bunch of taverns in the surrounding village!"

Rico's face became serious. "An' what about it?"

Blue-Eyes threw his arms out wide. "Well, for starters, the island sounds big enough that if we decided to stay, the crew would never find us – if they even bothered looking, that is. Just think about it, we could hide out there for a while, maybe steal a few bags of gold, and then hire a ship to take us to the mainland! We could be free to wander wherever we choose without a captain or first mate to tell us otherwise!"

"Hmm… Maybe…" Rico agreed reluctantly. He could never understand Blue-Eyes' need to leave the life of a sailor. Being a raider wasn't that bad for Rico. Maybe in time, if he kept postponing Blue-Eyes' wild plans, his friend would finally decide that it would be better for them to stay.

Before either of them could say anything else, they heard the sound of many beasts shouting out in anger and shock.

"What th' fur is going on?" Rico wondered aloud, standing up and grabbing his axe. "Let's go an' find out."

000000000000000

When Captain Bloodfur had led the charge down into the bottom decks of the ship, mopping up the last bits of woodlander resistance, he had been severely wounded. Some of the searats said that it was "a knife in the dark", and others said that it was "one of those cursed otters". However, the fact still remained that Bloodfur was close to death, although none dared to say this too loudly.

What had started out as a glorious victory turned into a grim silence as the crew of the _Deathwake_ milled about outside of the captain's cabin, where only his most trusted right-claw-beasts were allowed to enter.

Inside the cabin, Captain Bloodfur lay stretched out on his bed. His once mighty body was reduced to a bloody, gasping mess. He was covered with many wounds, yet this had not stopped him. It took a spear deep into his back before he had finally collapsed.

The large rat looked around at the faces surrounding him. Bloodfur's second mate, a tall and female rat called Deathpaw, stood impassively to his left, silently observing as Beckler the healer fox tried to relieve his master of his pain.

"'Ere, Capt'n," the fox said, passing Bloodfur a foul concoction made from poppy-seeds and such other withered herbs as the pirates had been able to scrounge up or steal. "drink this, it'll make th' pain go away for now."

Once the rat captain had swallowed the vile substance, he leaned his head on his pillows and gazed up at the cabin ceiling. "'Ow long 'ave I got?" he asked.

Beckler pretended to look confused. "What do y' mean, Capt'n?"

"You know full well what I mean," Bloodfur coughed. The vermin wiped his mouth with his paw, and when he looked down at it, saw blood. "I know I'm dyin', don't try t' deny it. That blade did it's foul work. Now, I'll ask one more time 'n' I don't want t' hear another lie. 'Ow long do I got t' live?"

Beckler sighed. "Probably only a couple of hours at th' most."

The rat nodded. "Never ran from a thing in my life. I'm not going t' start fearin' anything now. Deathpaw?" He jerked his head to the first mate. "Fetch Rico."

The female rat bowed, then left. She returned a while later with Rico and Blue-Eyes.

Rico saluted with his red axe. "Ye wanted t' see me?" he asked.

Bloodfur nodded. "Aye. But first…" He waved his paw for the others to leave the room. Once they were gone, he looked up at Rico.

"Being me First Mate, the duty of me ship will fall onto ye. Ye now that, right?"

Rico had never truly believed that he would actually be handed the title of captain. He was glad for it though. Starting a mutiny was normally a bloody affair, and he wasn't sure if he'd dare to start one to claim possession of the vessel.

"Aye."

"Then listen carefully. If ye sink or crash any part of me lovely ship, my ghost'll haunt ye t' the day ye die."

"I understand."

"Hmm. Ye'd better." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "I'm a goner anyway, so I'm going t' let ye in on a little secret. One that'll help ye as captain. 'However, ye must never breathe a word o' this t' anybeast. Do ye swear?"

"I swear," Rico said eagerly. "What's the secret?"

"My name wasn't always Bloodfur." He leaned his head back, smiling as memories of the past came back to him. "I was like ye once. A worthless no-good who could never 'ope t' rise above th' rest of th' rabble. But then me luck changed when the ship I was on was attacked by a captain who called himself Bloodfur the Terrible."

He held up a paw as Rico opened his mouth. "No questions 'til I'm done. Anyhow, so me 'n' th' rest of th' crew were taken prisoner. We was given th' choice t' join Bloodfur's crew, or t' spend th' rest of our lives as slaves. I took th' first option. Like ye, I fought and clawed me way up th' ranks until I was made second mate. Me and Bloodfur got along well. With his reputation, 'n' my brutal tactics, every beast up and down the coast would tremble when they heard of Bloodfur and his fearsome crew of bloodthirsty raiders.

"Then one day, we sailed t' a big ol' island far t' th' south. Th' captain brought me 'n' a few of th' lads with him to the center of it. It was then that he told me what he planned t' do. He was gettin' old, 'n' had wanted t' live long enough fer his fur t' turn grey. He gave me his name, his ship, his crew, 'n' his reputation. T' this day, I've tried me best t' make sure that the name Captain Bloodfur would live forever in th' names of infamy."

He coughed weakly before continuing. "An' seasons later, here I am; Old, fat, an' slowly bleedin' t' death. Oh well. It happens t' everybeast I suppose." He looked up at Rico. "T' make sure that the legend lives on, I'm passin' the name of Bloodfur t' ye, Rico. A fearsome reputation is a treasure that many strive fer, but few get."

The dying rat handed Rico his red horned helmet.

"Thank ye." Rico dipped his head in a small bow. "I'll do my best."

"Good." He waved his paw dismissively. "Alright now. Leave me be. Tell that fox healer that he can come back in, but keep everybeast else out. I'd rather not die with a bunch of filthy wastrels staring at me, waitin' fer me t' finally die."

"Aye, Capt'n. I'll take good care of your ship."

With that, Rico left the cabin.


	4. The Feast: Part 1

**LAND OF SNOW AND ICE: STORM DEEP**

* * *

"All hail the new emperor! All hail Baro Steelclaws!"

Storm Deep's main hall was filled with hundreds of vermin. Lords, captains, soldiers, even cooks were present, all paying respects to their new leader. Old King Ragvor had died only two days ago of a "strange and sudden illness." His son, Baro, had graciously accepted the mantle of ruler in his stead.

The vermin all thumped their chests with their fists, then bowed as Baro walked into the massive room.

"Long live Emperor Baro!"

"May his reign be long and great!"

"T' th' Emperor!"

A long dark blue cloak was clasped onto his broad shoulders. He walked over to the black throne at the far end of the room. Sitting down, he raised his paws for silence.

As the crowd quieted, he began, "It's indeed a great tragedy that my father has passed from this life. His illness took us all completely by surprise. However, I promise you, with me as your leader, the Lands of Snow and Ice shall prosper and be made great once more!"

A small smile touched his lips as the vermin cheered.

"Of course, that means that there will be a few changes around here, but there will be more on that later. First, there are a few traitors that must be taken care of." He beckoned over to one of the captains. The vermin soldier saluted as he opened one of the hall's side doors.

Two beasts were roughly marched in by a group of ermine guards. One was a female ferret, the other a male fox. They had dark circles around their eyes from lack of sleep, and their clothes were damp and tattered from their brief stay in Storm Deep's deepest dungeons.

"These two were my father's most trusted beasts, as you all know. He put his faith in them, giving them the titles of head captain of the guard, and royal treasurer. And how did they repay his generosity? They stole from him!"

The two prisoners shook their heads desperately.

"No! We didn't! We were framed! We're innocent!"

"I served your father for twenty seasons! You know I'd never do such a thing!"

"Liars!" Baro hissed, slamming his fist on his throne. "You shall be sentenced to death for your crimes! Skinned alive and tied to posts for the carrion birds to pick at your flesh."

He waved his paw, and the two pleading vermin were hauled away.

"That will be all for now," Baro addressed the crowd. "Go about your business." With that, the young wolverine stood up and walked out of the hall.

* * *

Before going into his personal chambers, Baro glanced at the guards stationed at his door.

"Fetch Althea," he said.

"Yes, Your Supremeness."

Baro's room was plain. He had ordered most of his father's things to be burnt or put out of sight. The large wooden bed crowned the center of the room. Besides that, there were a few more pieces of furniture, such as a small table and a bookshelf.

The young creature paced the floor until he heard a knock.

"Yes?" he said.

"You wanted to see me?" a female voice asked.

Striding over to the door, he opened it slowly. The creature in the hallway was an attractively beautiful ermine. Her soft fur was neatly brushed, and she smelled of roses.

"Yes," Baro replied, indicating for her to come in, "I did." He closed the door.

"What is it this time?" Althea blinked, her eyelashes fluttering.

"Quit the act. I know you're not the innocent flower that you wish other beasts believe. I need you and your sisters again for another job."

"How much is in it for us?"

"Two chests of gold. You know I pay my friends well."

"You have a deal. I'll tell my sisters."

"Good. Tell me, have you ever had experience as a cook?"

"Can't say that I have."

"Well, you're about to have the pleasure."

* * *

**NORTHLANDS: FOUR WEEKS LATER**

* * *

A group of woodlanders trekked through the winter landscape, pulling wooden carts.

There were a score of them, mostly trader mice, along with their hired otter mercenaries. The carts were laden high with food and other essential supplies for their northland buyers. Some had argued that it wasn't wise to travel the Northlands during the winter season, but their leader, a mouse who went by the name Logan Anderson, reasoned that since many of the other traders were scared off by the freezing cold, the Northlanders would be desperate. And desperate beasts would pay more in gold.

Logan clapped his paws together and shivered. The icy wind went right through his heavy coat and clothes.

The path ahead led to a mountain pass. Logan had passed through it before, and knew that it was wise to take precautions.

He called out to one of the otter guards in front of him, and beckoned him over with a wave of his paw.

"Bowen, take three beasts and scout ahead. Make sure the path is clear. I've heard some ambitious vermin are trying to extend their kingdoms around these parts. Better safe than sorry."

The otter saluted with his spear then trudged off through the snow to find his companions.

The carts rounded a bend and finally they were at the foot of the pass. Logan ordered the company to halt, waiting until the otter scouts returned.

"Nary a sign o' a whisker," Bowen replied, shivering, "Nothing but th' blasted wind."

They continued on through the pass, the twin mountains casting their shadows over them. The mountain slopes were thickly covered with pine trees, the green branches standing out against the stark whiteness.

The travelers jumped with shock as there was the sound of a loud, long howl.

"ARH-WOOOOO!"

Logan's paw dropped to his belt and he pulled out a rapier. "Come on, lads! Run for it! Bring what you can -_argh_!"

The mouse dropped to the ground as a spear came hurtling out of nowhere and hit him in the shoulder.

Pandemonium broke out as shapes of white creatures seemed to rise from the snow on both sides. Arrows and javelins filled the air as the strange creatures let out a volley.

Logan desperately crawled under one of the carts, leaving a bloody trail behind him from his wound.

Curling up into a ball, he froze. Maybe the attackers would think he was dead if he remained perfectly still. He listened to the sounds of battle cries and screams as both sides clashed briefly.

Not long after, the sounds of fighting stopped, replaced with whimpers and pleads for mercy from Logan's fellow woodlanders. He didn't need to peek out from under his hiding spot to guess who had won the skirmish.

He couldn't help but flinch as the cart he was under was pushed away, leaving him exposed in the open.

A massive pair of paws suddenly grabbed him by the throat, and the mouse let out a strangled yelp. He was lifted into the air, his footpaws dangling.

"What have we here?" a voice rumbled.

Logan's eyes widened with fear. The creature before him was larger than any he had ever seen. The wolf grinned with his large yellow fangs. There was a long scar running down his face and across his snout.

"And what is a fearless beast like you doing under there?" The wolf mocked.

"P-p-please, sir, don't kill me! I'll give you anything! Anything! Name it, and it's yours! P-please don't hurt me! I don't wanna die!"

The larger creature snorted and dropped the mouse. "Nyko!" he called, "Come over here!"

Another wolf, this one smaller and much younger than the first one, came running over and bowed. Nyko was dressed in a thick white tunic. He still carried his bloodied sword in one paw.

"Yes, Father?"

"Do you see this beast?" He gestured to the sobbing mouse. Nyko nodded.

"Good." He kicked the mouse over to Nyko. "Cowards like this who desert their companions to their deaths aren't to be trusted. Do me a favor and take off his head, would you?"

* * *

**BLEAK CASTLE**

* * *

Lady Petra gazed out from the nursery tower window. Her baby, Owen, had just fallen asleep.

She was a tall, graceful wolf. She wore a green slim dress with a white sash. Tucked in the sash was an elegant dagger with a blue ruby set on its pommel.

Her blue eyes stared out, searching for any sign of her husband's return.

"Oh, where are you, Almar?" she said softly.

Her husband, Lord Almar Storm, had left Bleak Castle on a raid two weeks ago, taking a company of two-score foxes with him. When Lord Almar was gone, all of the duties of ruler fell on Lady Petra. However, the female wolf wasn't a stranger to hard work.

As Petra turned away from the window, she caught the sign of movement out of the corner of her eye. Looking back down at the land surrounding Bleak Castle. She smiled. He was home.

After checking once more to see if Owen had woken from his slumber, she left the room and ran down to the castle courtyard. She listened as the guards on the wall top began to shout.

"Lord Almar is back!"

"Raise the gate!" Lady Petra called up, reaching the gatehouse. The fox on the wall top nodded, then ran off to her bidding.

* * *

Lord Almar smiled as he saw the castle guards scurrying about on the wall top. He and his company halted as they waited for the portcullis to be risen.

"Feels good to be home, doesn't it?" The wolf remarked to his son.

Nyko was Almar's eldest child, being seventeen seasons old . He was wearing a white cape, and carried a shield, with a sword buckled to his side.

"Sure does," Nyko replied. "When do you think the next raid will be?"

Almar chuckled, patting his son on the shoulder. "We'll see."

The iron gate was finally raised, and the group entered Bleak Castle. A small crowd of the castle's inhabitants, mainly white foxes, were gathered in a crowd.

"Bring the carts and the slaves to General Skull," Almar said to Nyko. He caught sight of Lady Petra standing nearby and his face lit up.

"Petra!" He ran over to his wife and embraced her, kissing her lightly.

"Took you long enough," Petra scowled, a grin threatening to break out on her face. "Looks like you were successful."

"Aye." He nodded. "That we were. Oh, I have something for you!" He pulled out a bag from his tunic, and handed it to his wife. "Open it."

Her eyes studied the bag thoughtfully as she accepted it. She felt its weight. "Hmm. What could it be…?" Slowly, she opened it and gasped. "Such fine jewels!" she gasped, pulling one out and looking at it closely. "They're so beautiful. Thank you."

"Anything for you, my dear." Almar smiled.

"Where's Nyko?" Petra asked, glancing behind her husband at the group of creatures.

"Seeing General Skull. He should be back in a moment."

Excusing himself, Almar left to find his other children. He walked past the courtyard, and entered the keep where he and his family lived.

Passing through a corridor, he suddenly heard the sounds of yelling.

"You a plank-tailed piece of dung!"

"How dare you, you moldy-hearted bully! Take that back!"

Almar swung the door open with a bang. "What's going on here?" he asked gruffly.

Inside the room were two small wolves. Kano, the younger of the two, was nine seasons old. He had a tendency to whine when things didn't go his way, as many young beasts do.

"Da!" he said, pointing to his older sister, "Tell Cahira to give my knife back! I left it alone in my room for one moment, and she stole it!"

"Oh, fine. Have your measly kitchen knife back." Cahira threw the small dagger out the room window.

"Why you-! Did you see that, Da? She did it on purpose!"

"Both of you be quiet."

Almar barely needed to raise his voice, his grim tone was enough. The two young creatures fell silent.

"Cahira, go back to your room." He jerked his head to the door. "I'll deal with you later."

"Of course, Father." The young female wolf nodded her head then left.

"Follow me, Kano."

The two wolves walked out of the room. Almar began to walk down the corridor, Kano doing his best to keep up.

Almar slowed his pace slightly. He sighed aloud. "Oh, Kano. What am I going to do with you? You're the son of one of the mightiest wolf lords to ever rule Bleak Castle, and you still act like a spoiled young un."

Kano's head drooped down with shame. "_She_ started it though," he mumbled.

"That's not the point." Almar sighed with defeat. "Report down to General Skull. Tell him that I want you trained in the art of the blade. You're not going to be young forever. One day, you'll find out that the world is a hard, cruel place. Just because you are the son of a lord doesn't mean you'll be treated or respected as one."

"Yes, Father."

Almar watched as his son plodded away. He couldn't help but smile. His son would learn how to be a warlord one day. It was only a matter of time.

* * *

"Keep your guard up, Kano!"

Kano yelped as the flat end of General Skull's wooden blade smacked him on the head. Skull was a broad shouldered fox with white fur. The scars of many battles crisscrossed his arms and chest. Even his face had not been spared, and an ugly slash ran down the left side of his muzzle, narrowly missing his eye. He wore a breastplate and heavy leather clothing.

"Owch! Watch it!" Kano said.

"Your enemies won't take it easy on you in battle, young un. You have to learn to take a few blows," Skull replied, his blade whacking the wolf on his back.

Kano was breathing hard as he struggled to ward off the blows of his instructor. The young wolf had never fought in an actual sparring duel before, only mock ones with his older siblings, which he tended to lose at as well.

His older brother, Nyko, watched from the sidelines, a grin spread across his face. He knew what it was like to spar with General Skull.

"Keep your eyes on him, Kano," Nyko said. "Don't let anything distract you. You're not focusing."

"That's kinda hard to do," Kano muttered, bringing his sword up to block one of the white fox's blows.

The training session continued a while longer before the fox general finally took a step back, neatly disarming the young wolf as he did so.

"You're not very good," he assessed aloud, "But I've made swordbeasts out of worse before. Take your brother for example."

"Hah!" Nyko scoffed. "I heard that, old one."

General Skull ignored him, His attention fixed on Kano. "That'll be all. You can go down to the kitchens and grab something to eat. Put some good meat and muscle on those bones."

"I'll come with you," Nyko said, walking over to his younger brother and punching him lightly on the shoulder. "Father wouldn't be pleased if you got into trouble again. I'll keep an eye on you."

"I don't need watching. I'm not a cub, you know."

Nyko snickered. "Yeah, yeah. Come on, time's a wastin'."

As they entered the castle's kitchen, Nyko ordered one of the kitchen helpers -a female ermine- to bring them both some food.

"We're starving," he said, patting Kano on the back, "And just look at my little brother! He's so skinny you can practically see the ribs sticking out of his chest!"

"I'm not skinny!" Kano growled, shoving his brother with his paws. "You're all just big and fat."

"I'll see what I can do," the ermine replied, "Though, I'll have to ask the head cook because I'm new here."

"That sounds fine. What's your name again?"

"Rosetta, Master."

"Ah. Well, Rosetta, would you be so kind as to bring our food up to our rooms? Come on, Kano. Maybe we could play a war game of some sort."

Kano's face lit up. "You're on! I'll race you!"


	5. The Feast: Part 2

Days later, Bleak Castle was full of excitement and gossip. A ferret messenger had arrived from the Land of Snow and Ice! Apparently, the young wolverine emperor, Baro Steelclaws, wished to talk with Lord Almar.

In the past, the wolf and the wolverine lords had battled over the wide lands of the far north. The wars never had even a full season's pause until Almar became lord of Bleak Castle. He and the former wolverine emperor, Ragvor, decided that the only way either of them would thrive would be to make a truce.

A wary peace had reigned in the Northlands for seasons after that. It was only recently that Almar learned that Old King Ragvor had died, leaving his throne to his son, Baro Steelclaws.

Baro's message contained an invitation for the wolf and his family to visit him in his own castle. Almar, however, insisted that it would be better for the wolverine if he simply came to Bleak Castle instead. Baro agreed, and the preparations were made.

Almar's fox army was five score strong. Baro's forces, as the letter said, would only contain eight score soldiers or so. However, Almar planned to monitor their movements like a hawk.

The wolf lord and his wife were woken from their slumber by a knock on the door.

"What do you want?" Almar grumbled. "It's barely morning yet."

"Beasts have been sighted coming up the road, m'lord," General Skull's voice replied from the other side. "I thought I'd come and let you know."

Almar leapt out of his bed and hastily threw on his clothes and his heavy cape. Opening the door, he nodded briefly to Skull. The white fox saluted.

"At ease," Almar said, walking down the hallway. "Let's go see who these beasts are."

Making his way toward the gatehouse, he ran up the stairs onto the wall.

A troop of vermin were marching through the snow-filled path. Many of them ermine and foxes, yet there were also quite a few other vermin as well, a few ferrets, one wretched looking weasel, and even a ragged gang of grey rats.

The flags were white, broken only by the sign of a black claw. One beast in particular stood out, the wolverine leading them.

"That must be Baro," General Skull said, saying the obvious. "Looks young. Seventeen seasons at the most, though he sure is big."

"Hopefully he's not just all brawn and no brains," Almar muttered. "Strong beasts who don't think can make rash decisions. Ones that could affect us."

As the ranks of beasts pulled close to the wall, they stopped as one when the wolverine held up his paw. He looked up at Almar and called up, "Are you the lord of this castle?"

"Aye," came the reply.

"Would you allow me and my companions the honor of coming in? I, Emperor Baro Steelclaws, wish to discuss terms with you for a new alliance, as I wrote in my letter." He silently waited for the lord to make his decision.

General Skull whispered, "Seems polite enough. Should we let the rest of his troops in?"

"I don't think we should antagonize him. We need to at least pretend that we trust him. If not, he might decide that a treaty with us isn't worth it. A war is the last thing we need during winter."

Raising his voice, he called for the portcullis to be raised, then turned back to Baro.

"You may come in, friend," he said, bowing his head politely. He noticed with slight annoyance that the wolverine didn't bow back in return, as was the custom. _He's probably just new at this, _the wolf thought. He smiled inwardly. _That could be a good thing. It's easier to strike a deal with an inexperienced beast instead of one that is._

The iron grating was raised, and the company of Snowlanders marched in. Most of them were armed with spears, their uniforms white and black. Almar came down from the wall and went up to Baro.

"Welcome to Bleak Castle," he said. "My servants are preparing food as we speak."

Baro smiled faintly. "I'm sure they are." He glanced around. "Nice castle. Not as nice as mine, but still nice. The keep is rather small though."

Almar laughed. "Indeed it is. However, don't underestimate it. Bleak Castle's enemies have never prevailed against us. Many skulls have shattered trying to break through our walls." He said it in a lighthearted manner, yet at the same time, the warning was clear.

"General Skull," Almar said, addressing his second in command, "Could you find a place for the Emperor's soldiers to stay in the barracks? I'm sure they're positively worn out."

The white fox nodded, then left to do his master's bidding.

"Ah, and who is this?" Baro asked, catching sight of Lady Petra and Nyko as they walked over from the castle keep, Cahira and Kano a few paces behind.

"Allow me to introduce my family. Lady Petra, Nyko, Cahira, and Kano. Our youngest, Owen, is still sleeping."

"Charmed to meet you, I'm sure," Lady Petra said, curtsying. "But it's freezing out here. Let's go inside, shall we?"

They retreated into the warmth of the main hall. Only a score of Baro's guards came with him, the others were led by General Skull to the barracks, where he and the other soldiers could keep a wary eye on them without making it obvious.

They sat down at the head table, Lady Petra shooing the two younger children off.

"Anything to drink?" she asked Baro.

The wolverine shook his head. "Thank you, but I'm fine."

"So," Almar said, tapping the table with his claws, "let's get down to business. You wanted to sign a treaty, yes?"

"Correct." The wolverine pulled out a sheet of paper and handed it to Almar. "This one is basically the same one that you signed with my father. I've added a few things, but otherwise, haven't changed it."

Almar's eyes scanned the paper. "It all seems to be in order. Now, when would you like to sign this?"

"There's no time like the present. Just put your seal down there," he pointed with his claw, "and I'll put mine next to yours."

* * *

With the treaty signed, Almar declared that they would have a feast to celebrate. Baro had immediately agreed.

The cooks worked all day. Almar had a few woodlander slaves that were skilled in the art of baking, so there was a wide selection of cakes, pies, and breads for the special occasion. Grog and wine were also served, along with many types of different cooked birds.

Lord Almar and his family were seated at their normal places at the head table. Even Owen was present. The wolf babe cooed from his place on his mother's lap. He would lean forward, trying to grasp at the strange foreign objects in front of him, causing more than one mess.

Lady Petra shot a sideways glance at Baro. At this rate, the wolverine was going to eat them out of larder and castle. At least he didn't seem to be a big drinker. Lord Almar had offered him wine on several occasions, and he politely refused.

He probably thinks drinking takes too much time away from eating, Petra thought, scoffing inwardly.

As the creatures ate, maids came to refill their plates and cups. As one of them-an ermine in a green dress-reached over the table to pour more wine into Almar's cup, she accidently knocked it over, spilling its contents all over the lord's lap.

"You useless creature!" Lady Petra snapped, reaching over and grabbing the female ermine by the arm. "Find my husband a rag!"

"Yes, m'lady! Forgive me!"

As the maid scampered off, Petra shook her head. This was why she didn't hire foreigners as kitchen maids.

The ermine wearing the green dress came back with a cloth, followed closely by her sister Althea.

"I apologize for my younger sister's clumsiness," Althea said, bowing low to Lord Almar and Lady Petra. "She's not used to all this yet. But she will be." She shot a piercing glance at her sister. "It won't happen again, I'm sure. Will it, Rosetta?"

Rosetta shook her head.

Lord Almar snatched the cloth away from Rosetta and dried himself as best he could while more servants cleaned up the mess on the table. "Hmph." He growled. "See that it doesn't. You're both dismissed."

Baro watched with amusement as the two ermine bowed and left.

"I trust this doesn't happen often, does it?" He chuckled to Lord Almar, biting into a piece of roasted bird.

"It most certainly does not!" Lady Petra replied for her husband. Her eyes narrowed. She couldn't help but dislike the young wolverine emperor. He had a certain air about the smug way he said things that she didn't like.

Baro stood up, reaching for his empty cup. "Lord Almar, shall we both propose a toast in honor of the new treaty between our realms."

"What an excellent idea." The wolf lord stood up, indicating for his servants to refill the drinks. "Here is to the alliance!" Lord Almar said, lifting his cup. "May peace reign long between us!"

"To the alliance!" the creatures in the hall echoed loudly, gulping down their wine.

The lord nodded his head to Baro, and the wolverine also lifted his glass, smirking.

"To the death of our enemies!" he yelled. "May their deaths be long and slow!"

Almar hesitated briefly before he repeated, "To the death of our enemies."

As the other vermin in the crowded hall took up the toast, Baby Owen began to cry, and Lady Petra decided that it was close enough to his bedtime to put him to sleep. Before she left, she went over to Kano and Cahira, and whispered in their ears. "Don't think I can't see you. Don't you dare drink any wine, or I'll have your father tan your hides with his sword scabbard!"

"But Nyko is drinking lots!" Cahira protested. "Why can't I?"

"Because you're much too young. Understood?" There was an unmistakable underline of a growl in her tone. "Understood?" she repeated.

"Yes, ma'am," they both sighed, disappointed.

Lady Petra walked across the hall. Just before she went out of the door, she took a casual glance back, and was surprised to see Baro watching her with a hard glance. She blinked, and the moment was gone. Petra shook her head, trying to clear it. Perhaps she needed to rest. All the stress she had been under recently must be playing tricks with her mind.

* * *

General Skull had taken a moment to get a breath of fresh night air. He decided to take a walk along the parapet. As he arrived at the gatehouse, he nodded at the pair of guards as they saluted smartly. The fox smirked. One of them had obviously been nodding off, while his companion had kept a lookout.

"At ease," he said. He shivered as the wind blew its ice breath on him. "Brr! Wouldn't want to be those bumpkins down there, eh?" He indicated the vermin below on the path. Half of Baro's troops hadn't been let in, due to safety measures, and because of lack of room in the barracks. Instead, they had built a make-shift camp on both sides of the path. The light from the fires had gone out, and the foxes inside the castle could only see the sleeping forms on the snow.

"Aye," one of the guards snickered. "I'll bet they will all 'ave frozen tails by tomorrow! Hehe!"

"They're probably hopin' that their emperor doesn't decide t' stay long," the other added. "I know I would!"

General Skull grinned and slapped the guards' shoulders. "Well it's a good thing that you're both here to keep an eye on them then! Just in case they try sneaking in to get warm. Am I right?"

The two foxes nodded in agreement.

"Very well. Goodnight."

General Skull walked down the wall stairs into the courtyard. He stifled a yawn. He wasn't getting any younger. He needed his sleep.

As he passed by the barracks, he thought he saw movement through one of the windows.

"That's strange…" he thought aloud. "All of the soldiers should be at the feast."

Walking over to investigate, he barged the door to the barracks open. The creature inside spun around with a shocked look on his face.

"W-what are you doing here?" the ferret stammered.

"I'll ask the questions, ferret!" Skull retorted. "You look like one of Baro's soldiers! Why aren't –Mffh!"

A beast suddenly grabbed him from behind, and covered his mouth. Before the fox general could break free, the ferret darted forward and plunged a knife into Skull's chest.

"What was he doing here?!"

"I dunno! Quick, let's get out of here before the others find out we're here!"

The whispered voices faded as Skull's knees gave out from under him. His eyes closed and his vision went black.

The two vermin left the dead fox and disappeared into the night.

* * *

Back in the hall, the toasts continued on. Different variations and meanings of peace, long life, hopes of victory, were called out. As time went on, it seemed that Baro's vermin were the ones doing most of the toasting, while Almar's guards did most of the drinking.

Almar's eyes were getting droopy. He was finding it hard to stay awake. "Where…where is General Skull?" he wondered aloud, hiccupping. "He always loves a good cup of wine."

"Speaking of wine, let me help fill yours up, friend," Baro smiled, indicating to a nearby servant to pour more of the drink.

Almar's paws were beginning to shake. He blinked as he looked at them. "I feel…strange?" he mumbled.

"Nothing a good cup of wine couldn't fix!" Baro said, clapping the wolf on the back.

"No, no more wine." Almar replied, blinking rapidly. What was the sudden pain in his chest from?

His loyal vermin were also having the same problems. A vixen suddenly began coughing violently, dropping her cup to the floor as she grasped her throat.

"Oh, look!" a big fox chuckled, his stance wobbly as he pointed his claw at the vixen, "Ol' Velvetnose musta choked on her food. Harhar!" He broke off as he began to cough as well, blood coming out of his mouth.

It was then that Almar realized what had happened. He stood up, gripping the table for support. "Treachery!" he roared. "Don't drink the wine! It's been poisoned!–"

He gasped out with pain as he felt a dagger plunge deep into his back. He looked down to see Baro snarling at him.

"Sweet dreams," he whispered, pulling the dagger out and slashing the mighty wolf lord's throat.

"Father!" Nyko cried, jumping to his footpaws. "No!"

Several of Baro's creatures leapt up, armed with slings. Before the young wolf warrior could reach them, they released a salvo of rocks at him. The small missiles whistled through the air viciously. One of them struck Nyko on the forehead, and the wolf collapsed.

The hall exploded into an uproar. Baro's soldiers pulled out weapons and attacked the surprised foxes – many of whom had begun to choke as the poison took effect.

Cahira and Kano stumbled out of their seats, their eyes wide. They had never seen anything like the bloodbath that was taking place before them. A few fox guards were grouped together by the main doors, desperately calling for help.

"What do we do?" Kano shrieked.

Cahira broke the leg of her chair and held it like a club. With her other paw, she grasped him by the paw. "Run! I'll hold them off!"

She broke off with a scream as Baro rushed her, knocking the make-shift weapon out of her paws, and grabbing her by the arm.

"Leave her alone!" Kano yelled, jumping at the massive mountain of flesh and black fur. "Die!"

Baro merely swung out with his arm and swatted the young wolf to the ground.

"You both have spirit," he chuckled, glancing from Cahira to Kano. "Maybe I can make some use of you yet…"

* * *

Lady Petra was walking back from Owen's room when the sounds of fighting reached her ears. Her first instinct was to run back to the nursery to grab her baby.

"Shh, little one," she said as the young babe began to wail. "Shh, it's alright." Her voice betrayed how worried she was, and Owen, sensing something was wrong, continued to cry all the louder.

There was the sound of footpaws running down the hall toward them.

"Find those wolves! Kill them! Baro doesn't want any of them left alive!"

The wolf slammed the door shut and locked it. Petra glanced around desperately, looking for an avenue for escape. Trying to silence Owen, she ran over to the window. They were at least one story high. She glanced back at the door as the beasts on the other side began to thump on it with their fists.

"Open up!"

"Find a piece of furniture, lads! We'll break it down!"

There was nothing for it. Crawling through the window, she took in a deep breath, then dropped, clutching her wailing babe close to her chest.

She landed awkwardly on the hard ground with a cry of pain. Her left footpaw was sprained, if not broken. Yet she picked herself up and began to bobble toward the gatehouse.

"Intruders!" she screamed to the dim shapes of the guards on the walls. "Foes are in the castle!"

As the foxes by the gatehouse turned to her, both of them suddenly jerked and fell to the ground, struck by arrows from the outside. Two ferrets came slinking from their hiding places in the shadows and ran into the gatehouse.

"No…" Petra gasped.

If the ferrets raised the portcullis, the rest of Baro's forces would come pouring in.

An arrow came whistling out of the darkness from the nursery window behind her and plunged into her back. Petra gasped with pain, and fell to the ground. Owen wailed, not understanding what was going on. Her heart beating wildly, the female wolf picked herself off the ground and began to stumble away. A few more arrows were shot at her, missing due to the darkness of the night.

They finally stopped.

Voices echoed out from the nursery as the vermin argued.

"Why'd ye stop? Keep shooting, ye fools!"

"It's too dark! I can't see a thing!"

"That's no excuse! Baro wants her dead."

"Can ye see her? Course ye can't! That's my point! We're jus' wasting arrows!"

There was a brief pause. "Aye. Come on, lads, let's see if Brushfang and his crew got the gates open."

Lady Petra stumbled groggily through the darkness, blood oozing from the wound in her back where the arrow still stuck out like a black flag. She tripped, falling to the ground before struggling back to her footpaws. At last, Lady Petra came to the small, sturdy hut made from stone. There was a carpet spread over the wooden floor, and Petra brushed it aside, revealing a trapdoor in the center of the floor.

She grunted with exertion as she opened the trapdoor, her back burning with pain from the arrow wound. The wound was deep, and Petra began to feel light headed from the blood loss.

"It'll be alright, Owen." She gently held him closer. "I'll make sure you're safe."

Dropping down into the tunnel, she fumbled around in the darkness until her paw came across the shape of a torch. There was at least one always placed near the entrance and the exit, along with the tools to light it.

Once the flame was kindled, she shuffled down the tunnel, blinking back tears. She'd wait to find a safe place until this all blew over. Her husband would surely defeat the attacking scum. After all, the Great Lord Almar never lost to anybeast. Right? What if… what if…

"No!" She chided to herself, "Don't think like that! Everything will be alright!"

She disappeared into the tunnel, carrying the only thing that she had left.

* * *

As dawn rose over the Northlands, a gang of vermin slavers were roused from their slumber by their chieftain's shouts.

"Wakey wakey, everybeast! Come on, things to do and places to be!" the pine marten yelled, kicking one of his thug's footpaws.

Grumbling, the vermin rose to greet their day. A few began to light a fire to cook breakfast, while the rest cleaned up the camp - under the watchful eye of their leader.

The pine marten, Stoneheart, stretched his back with a groan. "Just look at that sunrise! Look at what you all were missing!"

"I'd rather be catchin' up on me sleep," a rat grumbled, folding his blanket.

"What was that?" Stoneheart's paw dropped to the hilt of his sword. "Did I hear you say something, big mouth?"

"Hmm? Me? No, I didn't say a thing, Chief."

"That's good. When beasts like you start talking, it's a waste of good fresh air."

Stoneheart sent out a few scouts, then joined the rest of the gang as they ate. The vittles consisted of baked snake eggs that one of the ferrets had found in a nearby swamp. Needless to say, Stoneheart had been eager to pull a fast retreat when he learned that there were snakes nearby. However, the eggs they decided to keep.

The only fox in the group was cooking a pot of gruel for the beasts not privileged enough to get a share of the eggs.

Stoneheart took a swig of grog from his canteen and let out a belch.

"Aaah. Good stuff, this."

The vermin gang looked up from their food as the pair of scouts came running back.

"Chief! Chief!" they cried.

Stoneheart stood up, drawing his sword. "What? Did you find something?"

"Aye! We found a strange beast in the woods! I think it's dead or something. Come see!"

Gathering their weapons, the vermin followed the two scouts through the forest until they saw the creature.

"W-what is it?" one of the rats asked, his eyes bulging. "That thing's huge!"

Stoneheart's gaze swept over it. "It's a female wolf by the looks of it. I've never seen one before, but I've heard tell of them. It must be one. Nothing else could be that big."

"Is it dead?"

"I dunno." Stoneheart walked closer to it and prodded the wolf with his sword. The female didn't even twitch. "She's dead alright." Stoneheart sniffed, taking a step back. "Aha! See that broken shaft sticking out of her back? I'll wager a bottle of grog to a rusty nail that that's what done her in."

Suddenly, a loud wail seemed to echo from the dead beast. The gang leapt back with shock.

"What was that?! Was it her ghost?"

"I dunno. Let's get out o' 'ere!"

"Oh, hush, you cowards." Stoneheart went over to the dead beast. "Don't you recognize the cry of a babe when you hear one?"

Pushing the body over a bit, Stoneheart looked down and saw Owen's eyes shining up at him. He had stopped crying, and gazed up at the pine marten with big eyes.

"Aren't you a cutie," Stoneheart grinned, picking up the wolf baby. "Oof! A heavy cutie, though."

"What should we do wi' it?" one of the gang asked.

"I say we kill it." A stoat said, licking the tip of his knife. "End it's misery."

"Are you daft?" Stoneheart said, spitting. "When this thing grows up, it'll be a fighter to reckon with."

"What are we going to feed it?"

"Vittles I suppose." Stoneheart rolled his eyes. "Everybeast needs to eat, you know."

"But babes can't eat solid foods!"

"Then we'll get some villagers to take care of him for a while. I know a family that owes me a good deal of coin. They'll help if they know what's good for 'em." He grinned down at the wolf baby. "This could be the best investment I've ever made!"

"What'll we call him?"

Stoneheart shrugged. "I had an uncle called Bertvar once. Let's call him that."

"Bert?" The rat sniggered. "What kind of a name is that?"

Stoneheart growled. "Got a problem with it?"

"No, Chief," the rat grumbled.

"Good." Stoneheart tickled the wolf baby in his arms. "Welcome to the gang, little Bertvar."


	6. The Dream

**Author Note: **

**(**_**ATTENTION! **_**If you have not caught up to the events of Chapter 62 in The Grey Warlord, I would advise waiting before you read this)**

**This was a random drabble idea that I had one night and I wrote it all in one sitting before going to bed. It takes place the night after Bertvar and his slavers arrive at Baro Steelclaws' camp. **

**If y'all have any specific drabble ideas for me to write, please let me know via PMs or reviews! :D**

**Happy reading to you all! **

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**VERMIN CAMP**:

Bertvar the slave master looked up into the night sky, reflecting on the last few days' events. He'd lost his slaves, and been abandoned by his river rat allies. However, his fate was seemingly taking a different turn with the discovery of Baro and his corsair allies.

Earlier, the wolf slaver had ordered his vermin to set up their tents on the far edge of the sprawling camp. He now made his way through them, until he found the beast he was looking for. Grunner the weasel was talking in hushed tones to Barktail, another weasel, when he looked up and saw his master approaching.

"Grunner, fetch Furgly and meet me in my tent."

Bertvar's tent was a squat, massive thing, dark and brooding in appearance. Slaver guards eyed the surrounding creatures suspiciously from their posts outside the tent, fingering their spears and knives whenever beasts got close.

Bertvar was sitting on a pile of cushions, his scimitar and scabbard on one side of him, and a plate of fruit on the other. He gestured for Grunner and Furgly to sit on the ground once they had entered. The wolf reached beside him and picked up the plate of fruit. He held it out to the two vermin.

Grunner grabbed an apple and began munching on it. "Mm. This is good. Where did y' get it, boss? I don't remember packin' apples."

"The wolverine and his friends gave it to us," Bertvar replied.

Furgly's paw stopped midair. The fox had been about to grab a piece when he heard the Slavemaster's words.

"What?" Grunner's apple fell on the ground and the weasel spat out whatever was in his mouth. Furgly snickered at the weasel's plight.

"Tch. So wasteful." A grin appeared on Bertvar's face. "No worries. I've already given some to the guards hours ago. They haven't fallen over dead, at least not yet. Anyways, while we're talking about poison…" The wolf looked around at the tent walls, then leaned in closer. "…I believe that Baro and his hordes have provided us with a golden opportunity. Never before have I seen a force this vast. And it seems that Baro doesn't have a clear second in command. So, If something were to… befall on him, I think it would be safe enough to say that the supreme command over his armies would be there for the taking."

Furgly let out a low whistle and nodded his head. "I catch yer drift." He winked.

"Mm. I don't know, boss." Grunner scratched his chin. "What makes ye think that they'll pick ye as their next chieftain?"

"During this siege, I want all three of us to keep an eye out. I want to know who Baro's greatest supporters are, and how close he is to his corsair allies. Once the mountain is taken, I'd like them to be killed. Once they are out of the way…" He held his paws out wide. "Baro will unfortunately choke on his food and die. In the midst of the ensuing confusion, I shall claim leadership."

"And nobeast will 'ave th' guts t' challenge ye!" Furgly said, rubbing his paws.

"If they do," Grunner agreed, "ye'll just chop 'em t' bits. Nobeast can beat ye in a duel."

Bertvar smiled. "And it goes without saying that the two of you will be promoted to High Generals of the hordes, with all the wealth and power you can dream of." The wolf sat back, rubbing his sore back with his paws. "Ah…" He let out a tired sigh. "Double the guards on your way out. Furgly, tonight you can be in charge of protecting my tent whilst I sleep. Keep the others on high alert. Grunner, you start snooping around. See what you can find out."

"Yessir!" Furgly saluted. "I won't let ye down!"

"Or I!"

Dismissing them with a wave of his paw, Bertvar watched them leave. He chuckled to himself. In a matter of days, they could be some of the most powerful beasts in all the lands.

_Who needs to be a slavermaster when an emperor's crown is there for the taking?_

Yawning, the wolf picked up his scimitar and went over to a pile of furs and blankets. Lying down, he clutched his sword close to him, like a mother with her babe. He also had a dagger hidden within paw's reach. The wolf wasn't going to take any chances.

Though he was tired, it took him a while to fall asleep. But after a lot of twitching, turning and tossing, the wolf's eyelids slowly closed and he slept.

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_Bertvar found himself in a wide plain. Blue flowers surrounded him as far as he could see. He sighed, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply, basking in the warm heat._

_Suddenly, a cool breeze tugged at his fur and clothes. Gently at first, then becoming stronger and stronger, until the wolf was nearly swept off his footpaws. He looked around wildly as darkness pressed down on him from all sides._

_Bertvar winced as blinding images flashed through his vision. Screaming beasts fighting amongst themselves, a littered battlefield, filled with rotting vermin and woodlander corpses. An armored wildcat armed with a giant spear, and a young black-furred fox._

"_What's going on?!" he yelled, but his voice seemed to come from far away, alien and distant. The images continued to flicker before him faster and faster, brighter and brighter until Bertvar's head seemed to throb with pain. _

_Bertvar plugged his ears with his paws and closed his eyes. "STOP!"_

_And suddenly, everything did. Almost as if it had all been merely waiting for his command._

_The wolf collapsed to his knees, panting. He jumped back to his footpaws as he felt a soft paw touch his shoulder from behind him._

_A graceful female wolf stood there, dressed in a grey tunic. Her clothing was simple, nothing fancy. _

"_Who… who are you?" Bertvar shook himself. Why did he sound like an unsure pup? He was Bertvar, Slavemaster of the Northlands, a skilled and feared fighter and killer. "Who are you?" he repeated, his voice hard. "And what do you want?"_

_The female wolf smiled. "Who I am doesn't matter, but you may call me Denra. As for what I want, it is to try my best to give you guidance for the decisions that you must make soon. Decisions that shall decide your fate."_

"_So… So are you like a seer or something?"_

_Denra pursed her lips. "No. I am a Guardian. Some of you mortals call us spirits and ghosts. I am one of the souls that have passed into the Afterlife."_

_Bertvar looked around. "I'm dreaming, aren't I?"_

"_Yes. You are."_

"_Ah. Well, why in the world would you want to 'guide me', anyway? What am I to you?"_

"_Because of a promise I have made." Denra's eyes misted over. "You are yet another soul searching for happiness. And like so many beasts, you are looking in an entirely wrong place. Wealth and power won't bring peace to you. You're a smart beast. Don't play games with yourself. You know it's true."_

"_Well, if it's all the same to you, I'd rather find that out for myself." Bertvar sniffed. "After all, what do you know? You're dead. Wealth and power don't do much for you now, do they? Well I've got a secret for you, we 'mortals' down here are only concerned about playing the 'me' game. And if you don't, you get taken advantage of, made a pawn for somebeast else's uses. I've been there. I know what it's like to live off of scraps to survive. I will never feel that again."_

"_I know you have been hurt, but I only wish to allow you to see. If you continue down your current path, you will not find what you wish for. Gold and power is not the answer." _

"_Does this mean that I _will _become lord of the mountain?" Bertvar felt excitement surge through him. "Aha! That must be it! Why else would you come now of all times? I will, won't I?"_

_Denra hesitated. "I am not able to tell you your future precisely. You must make your own decisions. I can only warn you that you will not find what you are looking for unless you abandon your ways. Killing and enslaving will never make you happy."_

"_Hah! So you say. You say you can only warn and guide me? Well, then know that your advice has been heard, and leave me alone. Begone."_

_Denra was silent. Simply staring at Bertvar with a long gaze. Her eyes were so filled with sorrow and pity that Bertvar trembled inwardly._

"_As you wish. I only can hope that you see the error in your ways. Please, I beg you to remember my words. There is always time to start again."_

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Bertvar gasped as he leapt up into a sitting position. He wiped sweat from his head fur. What did it all mean? He lied back down.

"She's wrong," he muttered aloud to himself. "Some beasts can't change. I've come too far, done too much, to stop now." Closing his eyes, he sprawled out on his make-shift bed. Yet the wolf knew that it would be a long time before he would go back to sleep.


	7. Coming of Wrath

**Author Notes:**

**So this is just a short Drabble that I made a while ago to get back into the writing spirit. Nothing much really happens here plot wise or anything - it's more of a fluffy Drabble type of thing. And it was basically also a test to see how I could write molespeech. :P Thanks to Keva and Keldor for proofreading!**

**Happy reading to you!**

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Three mole children ran through a maze of rocky crags that lay in the shadows of the Black Mountains.

Their tribe had lived there for as long as anybeast could remember. Some said that moles had lived inside the Black Mountains since the dawn of time. There was a cold beauty to it. However, the sun outside was shining merrily, the tall grass swaying to the gentle breezes. A trio of young mole babes, Gruffol, Burrclaw and Ruth, decided that things had gotten too boring in the mountain, and it was time to go on an adventure into the great outdoors.

Unlatching one of the unguarded secret doors, they'd snuck out, giggling and whispering to each other in low tones. Shrubbery and rocks crags dotted the land, blue flowers peeking out from the most random of places, just as eager as the young mole beasts to soak in the sun's warmth while it lasted.

"Oi'll catch 'ee!"

"Oo arr! Fat chance! You'm slower than a bumblybee!"

"Ooh! Just 'ee wait!"

"Run, Ruth, run! 'Ee's gonna get 'ee!"

"Hurhur!" the shortest and chubbiest of the trio, Gruffol, wrinkled his nose at his pursuer, a small, pretty lass named Ruth. "'Ee wi'll never catch Oi!"

Ruth surprised her quarry by suddenly giving a burst of extra speed, eating up the precious distance between them. She gave a gruff squeak as her frilly skirt snagged on a rock. Propelling herself forward, she reached out with her small claw and touched Gruffol on the back before she face planted into the dirt.

"Oi got ee!" she cried, lifting her head back up and chuckling. "Hurhur, who'm be farster naow, eh?"

Gruffol groaned. Turning, he looked around, "Where'm be Burrclaw?"

"Help Oi!" a voice called out high above them.

Ruth and Gruffol looked up and saw their friend perched on the tip of one of the highest rocks. Burrclaws' eyes were so tightly shut that his entire face was scrunched up as he clung fearfully to the rock.

"Oi doan't think Oi can get daown!" he groaned. "Oi'm scared."

"Burrclaw, whoi did 'ee climb oop thurr in th' furst place?" Ruth asked.

"Et seemed loike a good idea at th' time."

Gruffol walked around the massive rock, inspecting it. He tapped his chin. "'Ow did 'ee get oop thurr?"

"I dunno! Oi just climbed et!"

"Hmm." Gruffol shot a glance at Ruth. "What should we'm do?" he whispered. "Oi don't think we'm can climb that. Burr no."

The molemaid nodded. "Oi think there is only one thing we'm can do…"

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In the same rocky field as the trio of mole children, a lone badger walked. Nightwrath was his name. He was dressed in a light, brown tunic – a broadsword buckled to his side. Over his back was slung an odd shaped backpack carrying a wide-eyed badger babe.

The massive badger plucked a blue flower from the ground and inhaled its scent. "How are we doing up there, Beth?" he asked aloud, juggling his shoulder lightly as he addressed his daughter. There was a silence from the babe, which was finally interrupted by a burp.

"Sounds good to me." Closing his eyes, Nightwrath let out a relaxed sigh. "A beast can breathe out here," he mumbled. "Everything is nice and open and wide."

Then his left ear twitched, followed by his right. "Hear that, Beth? Sounds like a few beasts in trouble. Hang on." With that, he drew his sword from the scabbard with one quick _swoosh_, and began to half-run half-jog toward the sounds.

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"Just jump already!" Ruth said, groaning. "You'm takin' forever!"

"Oi don't wanna!" Burrclaw scowled. "Et's much too high. Burr aye."

"But we'm even stacked a cushion for 'ee," Gruffol retorted. "Don't tell uz that we did all that hard work furr nothin'."

Burrclaw cast a skeptical glance at "the cushion" – which consisted of piled grass, clumps of soft dirt, and flowers (Even though some of them had thorns, but Gruffol and Ruth thought it would not be wise to tell their friend about that).

"Et doesn't look safe, burr no!"

"Who'm cares if et's safe?" Gruffol was getting annoyed now. "Just jump! It's yore fault furr climbing oop thurr in the furst place."

Burrclaw opened his mouth to reply, but then –thanks to his elevated perch– the young mole caught sight of a large, strange creature that he had never seen before, running toward them, carrying a bundle on his back and holding a very dangerous and deadly looking sword in his paw.

"Eeeee! Help! Badbeast is coming!" With a wailing cry, the mole infant leapt off the rock, dropping through the air like a solid block of stone, and landed with a thump on the pile beneath him.

The other two young moles turned their heads. Ruth let out a gasp, while Gruffol's jaw dropped. The trio scrambled to their footpaws and began to run back toward the mountain, Gruffol banging head first into a rocky crag in his haste.

Nightwrath's much longer steps proved much quicker and more coordinated than theirs, however.

Ruth yelped. "We'm can't outrun 'im! Hoide!"

She dove behind a scraggly bush as they rounded a rock, to her annoyance, both the other moles dove after her.

"No, dummies! Foind somewhere else!"

"But there is nowhere else!"

"Scoot'm o'er, ye big-"

"Ahem." The three looked up to see the terrifyingly huge form of the badger. Nightwrath coughed again. "Are you children all right?"

"Please don't eat'm uz!" Burrclaw laid face first on the ground, covering his head with his paws. "Oi be too young t' be eated."

"Eat you?" Nightwrath let out a rumbling chuckle. "Of course not. Why would I do that?" He winked. "I already had breakfast - and no," with one paw, he picked Burrclaw up and set the mole back in a standing position, "I don't eat young moles." As he finished, he sheathed his sword, then set his backpack on a soft patch of ground. A cooing sound erupted from it, and the three moles scurried over to investigate.

"Aww!"

"Et's zo cute!"

"What's ets name?"

Nightwrath smiled. "That would be my daughter Beth."

Ruth sized the badger up. Once a beast looked past his scary size, his eyes looked fairly trustworthy. She sniffed the air and wrinkled her nose. "'Ee don't smell loike a varmint," she announced. "Papa says that varmints stink summat awful."

"I'm not a vermin. I'm a badger. Tell me," he looked around, "do you live around here? Where are your parents? I'm sure they're worried sick."

Ruth kicked the ground sheepishly. "Uh… They'm don't know we'm out here."

"We'm should probably go back," Gruffol said, rubbing his stomach. "Besides, all that climbing made Oi be hungry."

"Would 'ee like t' come t' our 'ome?" Ruth asked. "We'm could feed thy babe and yurrself."

Nightwrath looked down at Beth. "What do you say? Are you hungry?" Beth wrinkled her nose and cooed, causing her father chuckled, the sound deeply resounding from his chest. "I'll take that as a yes. Could you show us the way?"

"Aye, Zurr! Foller uz!"


End file.
